


Promised

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Agent Lahey and Agent Hale [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Agent Derek Hale, Agent Isaac Lahey, Alternate Universe, Alternative Universe - FBI, Based on a Tumblr Post, Complete, FBI, FBI Agent Derek, FBI Agent Isaac, Handcuffs, Law Enforcement, M/M, Mild Kink, Sequel, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five months later, Stiles and Scott decide to try their hand at conning people in Europe. After getting through the international agency red tape, Agents Hale and Lahey follow them, hoping to catch them this time around.</p><p>Derek falling for Stiles wasn't part of the plan, but he realises that he would do anything Stiles asked of him, even go to jail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promises made

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [ Unfinished Business](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1253365). I suggest you read that story before this one.

"I've been following Stilinski and McCall for months, sir. You can't take me off the case!"

 

"I'm not taking you off the case, Hale. You know this case better than anyone, bar Taley - " Derek couldn't be bothered correcting his boss on his partner's name again, " - And now that Stilinski and McCall have gone international, you have to liaise with an international agency. Maybe you'll be able to bring them in this time."

 

He knew that it was a slight dig at the past five months of Derek and Isaac traipsing across the country, tracking Stiles and Scott and still not bringing them in. Derek could care less about his boss' thoughts though; he knew that he'd been working his ass off on this case, and so had Isaac. It was meant to be a simple open and shut grifter case, but it had evolved into so much more than that.

 

The two grifters had recently gone international, but he and Isaac had been tied up in red tape and inter-agency arguments and couldn't follow them yet (the Europeans were certain that they'd win where the Americans hadn't; Derek had been somewhat smug that they hadn't been able to catch them either). It took Stiles and Scott scamming almost twenty thousand dollars in less than three weeks for the international agencies to finally call Derek and Isaac in. None of their international counterparts seemed pleased to have them there, nor had they admitted that they'd been wrong, but Derek didn't expect a miracle like that. The fact that their boss still hated Derek and Isaac probably didn't help smooth things over with the international agencies either.

 

"Just get it done, Hale, and make sure you come back with those two in custody," his boss said, hanging up and leaving Derek listening to a dial tone.

 

"I'm guessing by your expression that the phone call didn't go well?" Isaac asked, grimacing.

 

"Twenty points for Hufflepuff," a sarcastic voice muttered, and Derek glowered over at Stiles.

 

"Shut up, Stiles. I still can't believe you've done this," Derek muttered, shaking his head.

 

"Hey, I wanted to see Europe with my boyfriend. If I have to commit a crime for that to happen, then that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

 

Derek's ears went red at the term _boyfriend_ , and Isaac hid his smile behind his hand.

 

"Scott's a couple of carriages down. Make sure he keeps his hat on when he leaves the train, all right?" Stiles said to Isaac.

 

He nodded, blushing as well now, and left quickly.

 

Stiles turned to Derek with a grin. "Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted by your job?"

 

"I'm pretty sure I was still berating you for doing this."

 

"Hmm, I think I'd like to skip ahead to something more fun," Stiles murmured, moving to kiss him intently.

 

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles easily and kissed him in return. His last conscious thought for that night was that he wasn't just going to Hell, but he'd probably going to jail too.

 

...

 

Isaac grinned at Scott as he entered the train compartment. Scott lit up with a smile and immediately pressed Isaac up against the door, kissing him eagerly.

 

"I still can't believe you're here," Scott breathed happily between quick kisses.

 

"Believe me, I can't either. It was Derek, really. He said we couldn't let you two out of our sight in case you swindled half of the European population of their money by the end of the year."

 

"Four months left in the year, and you think we'd only get half of Europe?" Scott asked with a chuckle.

 

"Hmm, maybe more then," Isaac amended, tugging at Scott's shirt.

 

"Damn straight. I mean, with my puppy dog eyes and Stiles' ability to play on people's heartstrings..." Scott trailed off, grinning broadly. "We'd get enough money to buy our own island, and we wouldn't have to run around any more."

 

Isaac laughed, shaking his head. "You two like running from us almost as much as you like us catching you."

 

Scott just grinned up at him, stepping back to finally take his shirt off. Isaac made sure the compartment door was locked, the curtain closed, and then moved forward to nudge Scott back onto the bed, loosening his tie with a grin. He had no intentions of them being disturbed for the rest of this trip. Happy laughter bubbled up out of Scott as he pulled Isaac down on top of him.

 

"More sex, less talking," Scott murmured against his lips. Isaac nodded in complete and utter agreement.

 

...

 

A day full of sex passed before there was a harried knock at the compartment door. Derek pulled away from Stiles reluctantly as the quiet and desperate knocking continued. Blinking, Derek tried to clear his hazy sex-filled mind, trying to remember the name the compartment had been booked under. Stiles didn't look any better than Derek, and he probably won't be any help, handcuffed to the bed by one hand like that. (Derek flung the key away without really thinking about it, and he kind of regretted that right about now.) He scrambled up to find a pair of briefs, pants, a towel, _something_ , to cover up.

 

"Just a minute!" he called, finally finding a pair of sweatpants.

 

"Who is it?" Stiles asked softly.

 

Derek looked at him, eyebrow raised; 'why do you think I know? I've got as much idea as you do!' and Stiles rolled his eyes, feeling about with his free hand to find something to undo the cuffs.

 

"Derek, hurry up," Isaac hissed, and he loses some of the tension in his shoulders.

 

His jaw clenched in annoyance and anger as he stood, pants slung low on his hips as he opened the door to glower at his partner. Isaac ignored his expression and pushed into the compartment quickly. He stopped short on seeing Stiles' predicament, a blush on his cheeks.

 

"Any reason you're disturbing us?" Derek asked with a growl. "Don't you have someone to be guarding?"

 

Stiles scoffed in amusement; if Derek thought of **this** as _guarding_ , well, whatever he needed to tell himself to help him sleep at night.

 

"Scott found out that agents are getting on board at the next stop. Apparently they got a tip off about him and Stiles being on the train. Argent, from the Department de la Sûreté, and Martin from the Met Police in England. They're the two we're meant to be meeting on Monday, aren't they?"

 

Derek nodded briefly. By now, he knew better than to even bother asking how Scott found this out. The guy had some sort of weird thing he could do with his eyes that made people tell him anything he wanted. (He almost got Derek's social security number and new banking password just by looking at him like that. Oh, and speaking of banking, after a lot of negotiation, Stiles very kindly gave Derek's ten thousand dollars back. He still refused to admit to stealing any money from the FBI, and the Bureau refused to admit that anyone stole anything from them, though everyone _knows_ there's a solid fifty-grand missing.)

 

Stiles managed to unlock the cuffs with god knows what (Derek's fairly sure the lube was the only thing within reaching distance - _what the hell, Stiles?_ ) and hurried to get changed. Derek wanted to pout at the loss of that addicting body, but the FBI agent part of his brain told him to harden the fuck up and hurry.

 

They had to get the hell off this train before the next stop or they'd soon be heading for jail. Derek didn't particularly want to face any of the fuckers he put in there _behind_ those bars. Not that he thought he wouldn't be able to take them, but he'd be worried about Stiles (especially with his eyes and his **mouth** ; _oh god, he would never last in jail, no matter how smart he was_ ), and after the inevitable fight, Derek would probably end up in solitary where he wouldn't be able to protect Stiles. _Or Isaac, or Scott._ ** _Fuck_**.

 

He pulled his shirt on, belatedly realised that it was inside out and changed it again; Derek ignored Isaac's smothered laugh-into-a-cough.

 

"Pack everything, make it look like we've never been here. Meet you in the dining cart," he added, and Isaac nodded before returning to his own compartment.

 

"Don't worry, Agent Hale, we'll get out of here before your colleagues find out you've been fucking a fugitive," Stiles said, smirking briefly.

 

"If you really think that's what I'm worried about..." Derek trailed off suddenly and shook his head.

 

Stiles cocked his head to the side briefly, then sighed and was surprisingly gentle as he placed his hand on Derek's arm, squeezing. "Yeah, me too. Come on. Let's get out of here before your pretty ass is hauled to jail where I can't protect you."

 

 ** _Stiles_** _protect_ ** _him?_** Derek thought with an internal scoff. _Skinny, weak, defenceless Stiles? Yeah, right_.

 

They've just made it to the dining cart when the train starts slowing to a stop. Isaac looked at Derek in surprise, eyes wide and obviously trying not to panic.

 

"Keep going," Derek muttered, nodding to the staff carts at the end. One was the kitchen and the other contained luggage, and no matter who these people worked for, they'd still have to enter through the front of the train first.

 

Stiles pushed something into Derek's back pocket, and he's momentarily distracted by the feel of Stiles' hand on his ass. Isaac opens the back train door, the staff running off the moment Derek pulled his gun, and a blast of cold air hits them.

 

This was meant to be a weekend away, dammit. He was supposed to fuck Stiles until he couldn't pronounce his own name, then later on in the week, he'd provide his boss with some convincing snapshots of Stiles and Scott walking through shops, maybe even show them conning pounds and francs from innocent civilians. Then, they'd be seen heading back to the US, and as usual, he and Isaac would be assigned to follow them once more. Then they'd meet up in a different state (Stiles muttering something about getting out more, and the gym doesn't count, no matter how much he liked Derek's muscles) and do the whole thing over again. It was a perfect agreement, so long as Derek didn't think too hard or long about the fact that his boyfriend was a criminal.

 

There's a shout behind them, and it looked like the kitchen staff were faster than Derek assumed them to be, because there's a woman pointing a gun at him and shouting something with a heavy French accent. She's raising her gun to kill, not to wound, and Derek isn't fast enough to dodge something like that. The gun goes off with a resounding **crack** and it seemed as though time slowed down, Stiles jumping in front of the goddamn fucking bullet, pushing him out of the way. Then everything sped up again, Scott and Isaac screaming and Derek can't move away from Stiles.

 

"This time we'll find you and Isaac, Agent Hale. Get out of here," Stiles said firmly, hands pressed to the bullet wound on his shoulder. "Go. Please," he added.

 

Derek hated himself the moment he nodded, stood, and shoved Isaac out of the open train door. He hated himself for leaving, for wanting to stay, for wanting to wrap his bare hands around that bitch's throat, for not protecting Stiles, for not seeing that he would have done this. He hated that somehow, without him knowing, he'd gone and fallen in love with Stiles Stilinski.

 

Isaac's gone into some kind of shock, but they've both seen wounded people before, and they both know that the injury didn't kill Stiles. The shock only lasts a few minutes, trained as they are to get past things like that, and then they're both running for their lives.

 

...

 

"I'm not going to an island, Isaac. It sounds romantic and whatever, but transport in and out of an island is already limited, and then it can be severely restricted by unpredictable tropical weather. There's be no way we could get out of there in a hurry. We stick to heavily populated places, somewhere we can get lost in the city - and more importantly, lose others," Derek said firmly.

 

Isaac nodded reluctantly, the idea of Scott finding him on an island slipping away. "Here, or the US?"

 

Derek wanted to stay, they would be able to find out about Stiles and Scott easier if they were still in the country, but he knows that if they go back, then the French and English agencies will be caught up in so much red tape it'll take them a few weeks to get to the US.

 

"There's a flight to Boston that leaves in thirty minutes. Take Delta Airlines, I'll take British Airways," Derek muttered. "Go to the safe house; I'll meet you there."

 

Isaac looked up at the screen, noting that the British Airways flight didn't leave for another two hours. It was easier to split up - the agencies would be searching for two people travelling together - but he didn't like the idea of leaving Derek in an airport for two whole hours when they were still being chased.

 

"Go, Lahey," Derek growled, startling him into action.

 

He took a deep breath and headed over to the check-in for Delta. Scott's brand new credit card was in his pocket; it was one he and Derek hadn't mentioned to their boss, purposely destroying any evidence of the card so that Scott and Stiles would be able to get around with at least one false identity intact. It's all too easy and over in a few moments, the man behind the counter dismissive on realising Isaac didn't have any luggage to check in. Isaac shoulders the bag he'd bought and left quickly. He brushes past Derek, passing him the credit card, and doesn't look back.

 

Derek spends most of the next hour using one of the public computers, feeding as much money into the machine as he can, trying to find anything about the shooting on the train, the two people caught, or what's happening with the agencies tracking them. By the time he needs to go buy his own ticket for British Airways, Derek has found out that Stiles was taken to hospital, Scott was taken into custody, and there's a massive manhunt on for him and Isaac. He's a bit nervous, knowingly using stolen money, but at this point he's beyond caring, and soon enough Derek is sitting on the plane, wondering how it'll take off when it feels like there's a solid tonne of lead in his stomach.

 

...

 

Three months pass by. Derek grows a beard and starts wearing thick rimmed glasses, Isaac has dyed his hair and taken to wearing scarves and hats to help hide his face, and somehow they get by. It's becomes easier than he'd thought it would be to work on this side of the law, working for cash with people who have either arrived illegally or overstayed their visas.

 

Derek is impulsive, a little hotheaded, but he's good at his job, and it takes him a week or two to repress the urge to arrest all of them for not having green cards. He obviously can't do that without revealing himself, and gets over it. The need to turn anyone in disappears completely the next time there's a raid on the store and he sees just how harshly his boss is treated even though the employees in the shop at that moment are all legal, on the books and still within their visa limitations.

 

Isaac must have gleaned the trick from Scott, because he can find out things with just a _look_ now - as well as a computer - and on realising that his job was being raided in two days' time, Derek told his boss the truth. His boss was sceptical, but agreed with his plan, giving him a firm warning that if he was lying, Derek would be thrown out on the street with a hand cut off at the wrist. _Crazy bastard_ , Derek thought fondly.

 

He watched the raid from across the street, close enough to see what was happening, but not enough to be recognised. His boss was the one being thrown out onto the street a few minutes into the raid, and Derek barely refrained from stepping out of his hiding spot to help him. When the agents realised that everyone was really working there legally, they left again without so much as an apology or an offer to fix the broken door. Derek fixed the door himself, nodding briefly when his boss thanked him for the warning and generously added an extra fifty dollars in his pay the next day. He didn't bother trying to give it back; he and Isaac were barely scraping enough in to eat, not wanting to use the credit card Scott and Stiles had given them. (It didn't matter that they hadn't provided evidence of the card; there were now others searching for them who wouldn't have the same problems, and the card could easily be traced.)

 

Stiles and Scott's case has actually been broadcast across the country; two con-men who scammed money out of innocents wherever they went (except for that time in Toronto, simply because Derek didn't let Stiles leave the bed for three straight days), and they were finally being extradited back to the US to face trial. Derek didn't even have to discuss it with Isaac that night, and just like that they've agreed to rescue Stiles and Scott.

 

The credit card was brought out of hiding, used three states over, and then they worked on setting their plan in motion. The day of the prisoner transfer had already been set, with three routes organised to trick the paparazzi as well as Scott and Stiles' fans (there are a lot more than Derek had ever expected). Thankfully, both Isaac and Derek know the way the FBI think and agreed that the second route was the most likely one that would be taken to get to the courthouse. They choose an ambush point, a getaway car, and neither of them want to admit just how easy it is to be on this side of the law. They also don't discuss just how much jail time they'd get if they're caught: Derek's all too aware that any judge in the country would want to make an example out of them, and there's no way they'd get a simple three to six year sentence out of this. He thinks that the risk is worth it.

 

...

 

The day of the ambush arrived, and Isaac felt like he might just throw up. He's terrified that it would all go wrong, that they might get put in jail or even killed, but Derek's surprisingly calm, and his certainty helped calm Isaac down as well. They're both in position and the FBI vehicle comes over the hill, and Isaac is pretty certain he is going to throw up before he can throw the smoke grenade, but then his arm is moving of its own accord, and there's thick smoke pouring out onto the street. _Holy fuck, he actually did that_.

 

The car screeched to a halt and Derek surged forward, ignoring the screaming, hysteria and mass confusion, in order to open the rear doors for Scott and Stiles. Isaac ran over to the car to get the engine running, and he looked over to the car in worry because this is taking too long, they should be here already, and then he could see Derek's face in the smoke but he still can't see Scott. _Where's Scott? Where's Stiles? What happened?!_

 

A group of agents with very large guns surrounded Derek suddenly, and Isaac let out a cry of surprise. It had been nothing but a trap, this whole thing has been set up to catch them along with the two conmen they had helped. _Fuck_. Isaac panicked and tried to open the door, to get out to help Derek, but Derek gestured at him to just **go already** and - fuck, _fuck_ , **fuck** \- Isaac did as he was told. He tore out of the street like the price of petrol didn't mean a thing and didn't lift his foot from the accelerator until he had arrived in the next fucking town. **_Fuck._**

 

...

 

Derek was right about being made an example of, and as his luck would have it, he's sent to solitary as soon as his sentence is received. He's in the same damn prison as Scott and Stiles, and he can't see either of them. Hell, he can't even see his own hand in this dark cell. Derek's kept in the dark for god knows how long, but then there's another prisoner being brought in and thrown into the black cell beside his. He hears a snarky retort about being given a baseball to throw around, and immediately recognises that it's Stiles.

 

"What the hell are you doing?" Derek muttered under his breath, as if Stiles could see him glaring. He let himself get caught so he could help Stiles, not so he could do something stupid like this.

 

Derek heard a series of knocks, muted by the thick walls they're trapped in, but still clear enough to determine the message: _what the fuck?_ Somehow, he's not even surprised that Stiles knows Morse code. He tapped his response out slowly and carefully, hoping he's right about this and Stiles wasn't just randomly knocking.

 

 _Hello to you too_. Stiles will be able to appreciate his sarcasm, surely?

 

 _You were meant to stay out there_! Huh, he didn't know Morse code could sound angry, but there you go.

 

 _Not without you_. His cheeks are red at his admission even in the dark, even though he's completely alone.

 

There's no response to that for a long time ( _it's fucking hard tapping out Morse code with a closed fist in the dark, and a whole sentence can take a while, all right?_ _There's no other reason Stiles hasn't replied yet, none at all_ ), but eventually he hears the knocking again.

 

 _I missed you too_.

 

Derek let out a sigh of relief, and he wished that his solitary was over right that minute so he could do something sappy and stupid like hug Stiles for hours on end. Because getting arrested for him isn't sappy and stupid enough, obviously.

 

...

 

"Is Isaac all right?" Scott asked Derek the first time he saw him.

 

Derek raised his eyebrows at Scott, a little concerned that he's so thin and has dark circles under his eyes, but finally relents and nods. He's received a lot of stares from the other prisoners, and most of them are hostile ones. Derek's been tense since stepping foot out of his cell; he's been waiting for someone to try to kill him, honestly. From what he'd seen, there are approximately eight criminals he'd helped put in here, and the fact that they hadn't attempted to kill him yet made him inexplicably nervous.

 

"Isaac was fine, the last I saw of him," Derek added when Scott didn't seem appeased with his nod.

 

"And when did you last see him?"

 

"When I was getting arrested and beaten up by at least six guys I used to call colleagues," Derek bit out, a little pissed off that Scott's acting like a wounded puppy.

 

Scott nodded briefly then, looking a little ashamed, and they both go quiet as they eat the slop considered food. Derek was surprised to notice that Scott is actually being avoided, even by the guys that are bigger than _him_.

 

"What's going on here?" Derek muttered, glancing to one guy that he definitely knows he put away (and got an extended sentence for) only a year ago, yet the guy hadn't moved on him yet, despite some intense glaring.

 

"Stiles," Scott replied, as if that's all the explanation he needs. "He ... uh, how'd he put it? He _flourishes_ in here. He's a con artist on the outside, yeah, but in here, he's got so many more people to play with."

 

"Play with?" Derek echoed, eyebrow raising.

 

"Yeah; it's a game to him, and he likes to have fun. Running our con, that was fun; meeting and conning you and Isaac was fun; going on the run and seeing the world: fun."

 

"All right, I get it. But how'd Stiles get these guys to act like... whatever they're acting like?"

 

Scott bit back a grin, almost looking proud of Stiles as he thought back. "He got roughed up by his cellmate his first night here - " Derek immediately saw red; _he's going to_ ** _kill_** _whoever laid a fucking hand on Stiles, just as soon as he finds out who the fucker is_ " - so at lunch the next day, Stiles stabbed the guy's eye out with his fork, then used it to keep eating when he'd taken the eyeball off. It was fucking _insane_."

 

"He did what?"

 

"Oh, relax; I'm _kidding_. Hey, don't give me that look, it's payback for you withholding info on Isaac," Scott pointed out with a stern pout ( _how does he even do that?_ ). "Stiles has always had that sort of ability to just look at people and just _know_ them, y'know? Works real well when he's conning people, he knows exactly what to say for them to give him everything and anything they own. Turns out that it works just as well in prison as it does on the outside, too. He's got everyone in here wrapped around his little finger. Pretty sure he's even managed to get you rooming with him," Scott added, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

 _Rooming, like they're in college or something_. Derek wondered why he ever thought Stiles would need him in here. In fact, with the look that guy's still giving him (and twirling his fork like he heard Scott's little story a bit too clearly), Derek wonders if he won't be the one that needs protecting.

 

...

 

Stiles was let out of solitary in time to go to the exercise yard. He found Scott sitting by the weights, and watched Derek for a moment as he did chin-ups with his back to the rest of the yard ( _that is way too trusting_ , Stiles thought to himself; _they'll have to work on that, no matter how much he enjoys the view_ ), his muscles rippling across the stretched white material of his singlet.

 

"Hey."

 

Derek let go of the bar immediately, dropped to his feet gracefully and turned around, his heart hammering in his chest. "You're okay," he breathed as if he didn't believe it until he saw Stiles for himself, no matter what Scott had told him earlier.

 

Stiles grinned broadly. "Yeah, are you?" he queried, stepping forward to hug Derek tight. No one in the yard commented on the display of affection, but Stiles wouldn't care even if they did.

 

"Better now," Derek admitted softly.

 

"You're both being so sweet," Scott said, sniffing loudly.

 

"Shut up or we'll have the noisiest sex we've ever had tonight," Stiles replied, not moving out of his embrace with Derek.

 

"Your cell's next to mine," Scott explained when Derek looks over at him in confusion. "Anyway, you two always have noisy sex. Isaac and I were in Toronto too, remember?"

 

Stiles rolled his eyes as he finally pulled away from Derek. "Now, since you're here, you'd better tell me you brought me exactly what I asked for. Even if you are three months early."

 

"Hey, it's not my fault the FBI made it look like they were transferring you and Scott; Isaac and I weren't going to sit around doing nothing if that chance was even there," Derek said firmly.

 

Stiles seemed a little more appeased at that, and Scott looked like he was going to pout about not seeing Isaac again. Stiles nudged him and pulled a face.

 

"Don't worry, we'll be out of here by the end of the week. I'm sure Isaac's dying to hang on your every word again," Stiles reassured him before turning back to Derek. "So all of the stuff's there?"

 

"It's all there, everything on your list. Do you know how hard it was walking around while wearing even **_half_** of that crap?" Derek groused.

 

"I'll make it up to you later," Stiles promised. "For now, you should definitely keep going with your exercise thing that you're doing there. Face this way though," he added, sitting beside Scott to watch with a grin.

 

Derek rolled his eyes but jumped up and grabbed the bar above him, steadily lifting his body up before lowering himself down and repeating the process. By the time he'd finished his workout, the sun had started to set. Derek was positive that the exercise time went for longer than normally scheduled (a very unsubtle handshake between Stiles and a guard basically confirmed his theory).

 

 _At least he'd made it to his cell at the end of the day without any of the inmates trying to kill him. And Scott had been right: he and Stiles were in the same cell_. Derek wondered just how fucked up his life had to become when they were now the only positives in his life.

 

Later that night when Stiles was curled up around him after their third time (he swore Stiles _screamed_ his final orgasm just to piss Scott off), Derek wrapped an arm around his boyfriend and life didn't seem that bad after all. Of course, that was probably the afterglow of his orgasm talking, but he fell asleep promptly and couldn't care less either way.

 

...

 

Derek had been in jail for a mere three days before the first inmate tried to kill him. Scott had gone off with Stiles (there was mention of bribing guards for condoms or something similar) so he had no idea how long they would be gone, and decided to exercise even though Stiles liked to be there to watch him. They never seemed to use the exercise yard, and Derek still couldn't see the point of them being there if they weren't going to use anything.

 

He had his back to the rest of the yard (it kept the sun out of his eyes, no matter what Stiles said), and he'd been concentrating on his chin-ups so intently that the first blow to the back of his legs was a surprise. He dropped to the ground quickly, tucking and rolling back up into a stand fluidly. His legs are fucking killing him, and when he saw the metal rod in the inmate's hands, he's not really surprised about that. How the guy got that thing in here was something to be thought upon at a later date. For now, he had to survive.

 

Two hands against a metal rod hardly seemed fair, and for all his FBI training and personal martial arts regime, Derek doubted that he'd come out of this without _something_ broken. They're surrounded by the other inmates soon enough, and the metal rod is swung at him fiercely. Derek dodged it, landed a fist in the bastard's side, enough to have him wheezing in pain, but of course it didn't end there. The rod was slammed against his back, even as Derek kept pummelling his sides, hoping to bruise the fucker's ribs until he can't _breathe_ without being in pain.

 

The metal rod was more effective at delivering pain, especially with the metal twisted and poking out the way it was, and Derek had to pull away sooner than the other guy. But as he did pull back, he moved in and jabbed at the bastard's face, and he was pretty sure he had just broken the other guy's nose. He watched the inmate's eyes watering in pain, blood spraying across his face, and with a solid uppercut to his chin, Derek dropped the guy. The metal rod fell out of his hands and rolled towards Derek but he hurried to kick it back, not even considering picking it up and being blamed for this shit.

 

He stood there with his fists up and ready, despite the blood seeping out of the wounds on his back, and waited for the next asshole to try their luck. His shirt is torn, red staining on white where the twisted metal dug into his skin and tore it apart. Derek started to find it difficult to breathe, but thankfully, no one moved forward to attempt to fight him.

 

Then Stiles was there, Scott running for a guard or medic, and the crowd dispersed very damn quickly. Stiles smiled down at Derek and pressed a kiss to his lips.

 

"You were amazing, Agent Hale. Don't forget the plan for the medical ward," Stiles added in a soft murmur.

 

Derek just nodded, because what else can he do but trust that this plan will work?

 

...

 

It didn't take long for the doctor to patch the other guy up (giving him aspirin and a cream for the bruising is about all he can do); Derek took a little longer with the wounds on his back. The combined blood and sweat have made him itchy, and he sat on the padded table, fidgeting uncomfortably until the doctor snapped at him angrily. He went still and quiet, waiting until he's bandaged up completely before he returned to his earlier task of trying to scratch his back.

 

"Sit still, Mr. Hale!" the doctor demanded, glaring at his stubborn patient.

 

Derek ignored him and stumbled off the padded table, pulling down the rack of sterilised equipment in a clattering crash to the ground. The doctor turned to call the guards in, and Derek attacked him, subduing him in a headlock until he passed out with a gurgle. He dragged the man into the supply cabinet and changed his clothes. The doctor's not quite as broad-shouldered as Derek, but the white coat covers the tight shirt, and that would have to do.

 

He discovered the shaving cream and razor that one of the guards stashed in the roof, and in under five minutes, he's clean shaven, and after he slips on the doctor's glasses, Derek looked like a different person. At least, he hoped he did, or else this plan would be going to hell in it's own damn hand basket.

 

There's a knock at the door, and he heard some shouting in the background as one of the guards looked inside. Derek's heart hammered in his chest, and he can't believe that he's been caught so quickly. He hadn't even walked out of the hospital ward yet!

 

"Two inmates got in a fight and need medical assistance. Are you free to help them, Doc?" the guard asked, looking at him a little uncertainly.

 

"Sure, send them in," Derek replied, trying to act nonchalant about it and not give them away already.

 

"Wasn't there someone in here before?" the guard asked, even as Stiles and Scott came inside with bloody fists and bruising faces.

 

"He already left with a different guard," Derek replied.

 

The guard nodded, seeming a bit more relieved now, and left a moment later.

 

"If he hadn't just arrived in the last two days, I'd say the guards here are getting way too lax," Stiles muttered through a swollen lip.

 

"Jesus, did you have to hurt each other that much? You're going to look suspicious walking out of here with bruises like those," Derek muttered, wondering how the hell he's meant to treat them when there are times he can't even open a fucking bandaid properly.

 

"Scott made sure they were superficial hits, don't worry," Stiles replied, smiling and then wincing abruptly.

 

"Get as many paper towels as you can, wet them until they're cold," Scott instructed, his years as the son of a nurse showing clearly. "They'll have to do, since we can't get ice packs."

 

Derek nodded and did as he was told, grateful that he can do _something_ at least. It took a while, but the towels seem to help, and the swelling is reduced to a slight red bump that wouldn't be noticed if no one concentrated on them for very long.

 

Derek lifted the roof tiles to find the bag of clothes that had been hidden up there by a bribed guard earlier. They were all clothes that Derek had been wearing when he was arrested, layered in a way that made him seem bulkier than the weight on the warrant out for his arrest stated.

 

He kept an eye on the corridor to ensure they wouldn't be caught while Stiles and Scott changed into their outfits. Two janitor's overalls hanging in the supply closet (another bribe to a guard; apparently being a prison guard really doesn't pay much), which they slide over the top of their outfits.

 

Scott gathered up a bundle of towels from the supply closet, double checked that the doctor was still out cold, and then headed out with the towels obscuring his face. Stiles pulled Derek in for a quick and heated kiss.

 

"See you outside," he said before he left, grinning when Derek looked a little dazed.

 

After a few minutes passed, Derek straightened his coat and left as well, keeping his head down. He tried to give off an exhausted air rather than an escaping criminal one, and figured he managed it since he was waved through the security gate with barely a glance, and then continued straight out the front door without a hassle.

 

Isaac was waiting in the parking lot; Stiles and Scott were already in the car, and Derek couldn't help but be nervous as all hell. It had almost been too easy, and he's waiting for another ambush of FBI agents again, even after he got into the car. But no one came out to stop them, no alarms were set off, and he closed the car door without a scene. When they were all buckled in, Isaac drove out of the parking lot with the other three crowded in the back seat, ready to duck and hide the moment it looked like they're being followed.

 

Now, all they had to do was agree on a place to hide until this all blew over or they could get new identities. Isaac and Scott argued for an island somewhere, even though Derek had explained why they couldn't go to an island _two times_ already. He suggested Rio de Janeiro; he had contacts there and knew they wouldn't turn them over to the authorities.

 

Stiles thought about both of their ideas for a moment. Thanks to the European agencies, there were very few countries they could go to that wouldn't arrest or kill them on sight. That narrowed the list of choices down considerably, and while he was tempted to see Derek shirtless on a remote island beach somewhere, Stiles could be a little more practical than that.

 

"South America. It has a large city and a beach, so that should appease the three of you until we decide on something more permanent," Stiles added, grinning.

 

"Permanent sounds nice," Isaac admitted, glancing at Scott in his rear view mirror with a light blush.

 

Derek couldn't help but agree, and beside him, Stiles took his hand in his own. That small action seemed to make everything infinitely better all at once, and Derek settled back on the seat to sleep, his rush of adrenaline fading. They'd barely passed the state border by the time Derek fell asleep, his head resting on Stiles' shoulder.

 

"Hey, Derek?" Isaac asked, but was quietened immediately by Stiles.

 

"If it's not important, let him sleep," Stiles murmured, and Isaac nodded quickly.

 

They've got a plan and a route planned to get them anywhere in the country (as well as back up plans and routes from A to M detailed on a napkin somewhere), so Isaac decided to stick with plan A for now, and continued to head west until the next state border where he'd then head south.

 

They would be taking the long and very scenic route down to South America, but so long as they didn't get caught, Isaac doubted that anyone would mind. He just hoped that he'd be able to convince Derek to agree to Plan G's route via the Grand Canyon. _Scott would probably like to see the sun rise over the horizon there_ , he thought to himself, looking back at Scott briefly before returning his attention to the road once more.

 

...

 

Derek and Stiles went to their hotel room the moment they booked in, leaving Scott and Isaac with the bags. Scott offered to take them up to the room while Isaac grabbed drinks for them from the vending machine outside. It was cheaper than the mini-bar, at least. Isaac agreed, fumbling in his pocket for loose change, and watched as Scott headed upstairs before heading out to the vending machine. Isaac glanced around to ensure that he was alone, jogging over to the pay phone near the street. He slipped a coin into the phone and dialled a number, worrying at his lip.

 

"Good to hear from you, Taley. It's been almost three days, I was starting to worry that you'd turned on me."

 

"No, sir," Isaac replied quickly.

 

He felt a stab of guilt at his chest, and there was a part of him that he knew was nothing but utterly disgusted at what he's done: ratting on his partner, his boyfriend, and his friend to a boss that still doesn't even know his last name. But it's all for the best, and it's for their own good, all of them.

 

He just needed to find the fifty-thousand dollars, return it to the FBI, and they'd all be free to go. Their boss had promised, after all.

 

...


	2. Promises kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, Derek, Scott and Isaac have escaped from jail, but now that they're on the run, they have to try and keep it that way. It certainly doesn't help that Isaac is hiding something from the other three, or that two international agents have been sent from the UK and France to find them.

Lydia Martin hated waiting. She hated waiting in lines, hated waiting for news, but she especially hated waiting for partners from other bloody agencies that were meant to arrive almost fifteen minutes ago. The French obviously had no sense of punctuality. She’d barely finished that thought when the door opened, and a blonde woman walked in looking somewhat harassed.

 

"Sorry I'm late; our bosses decided that debriefing me on the situation for an hour was necessary," the woman said, offering a coffee as a peace offering.

 

"You're not Argent," Lydia replied with a slight frown, but took the coffee anyway. "She shot a civilian on the train and was suspended, last I heard. It was absolute insanity for her to openly fire into a carriage like that."

 

"Argent was my partner actually; don't worry, I thought the same thing when I heard what she'd done. Kate has a tendency to be a bit... unstable," she admitted. "I'm Erica Reyes, nice to meet you."

 

"Lydia Martin. What do you know about the situation? You said you were debriefed already?"

 

Erica laughed sourly and shook her head. "If by debriefed you mean sitting between two grown men as they argue over money, budget constraints, and lack of time, then yes, I was debriefed. From what I gathered between all of that, Stilinski and McCall were both on the FBI's radar last year, and Agents Lahey and Hale were sent to investigate. I am not entirely sure what happened after that; our bosses both just went red and changed the topic."

 

"McCall and Lahey started a relationship, as did Stilinski and Hale," Lydia said, shrugging. "I have no interest in their personal relationship with each other, I only care that they're breaking the law, stealing from innocent people, and the original two scammers now have an intimate knowledge of the way an intelligence agency operates."

 

"Yes, but the FBI are not Scotland Yard nor the Department de la Sûreté, are they?" Erica asked with a grin.

 

Lydia couldn't help but smile back at her and nodded. They would win where the FBI had failed, she was sure of it.

 

...

 

Scott looked over at Isaac who was ordering their food, then turned his attention back to Stiles and Derek with a sigh.

 

"There's something wrong with Isaac," he muttered, guilt settling in even as the words left his mouth. "We've been on the run for almost two months and he hasn't wanted sex at all. I mean, I know the goatee isn't the most attractive thing in the world," he said, brushing his fingers on the small goatee he was now sporting, "but I really didn't think it'd have this much of an impact."

 

"You two couldn't keep your hands off each other before all this," Derek added, glancing over to Isaac with a slight frown.

 

He'd been noticing Isaac's odd behaviour recently as well. Derek had put it down to them being on the run and constantly looking over their shoulders, but if he couldn't even relax while alone with Scott, perhaps there was more to it than that.

 

"I'll talk to him; why don't you two go see if you can find us some different clothes?" Derek suggested, nodding over to the clothing store across from the restaurant.

 

"We're in a town that seemingly worships plaid, Derek. Are you sure you want to risk **me** buying anything for you on top of that?" Stiles asked with a grin.

 

He just raised his eyebrow at him and Stiles left with Scott, laughing. Isaac returned to the table as they were leaving and looked at Derek with a frown.

 

"Is everything all right?" Isaac asked.

 

Across the street, Stiles was thumbing through the rack of clothing outside the store and took at least four different coloured plaid shirts. Isaac winced at the pink one and let out a sigh of relief when Scott made Stiles put it back.

 

"I was going to ask you the same question. What's going on, Isaac?" Derek asked firmly, holding him with his gaze as Isaac sat down.

 

"Nothing's wrong," he replied, his voice an octave higher, and he tried not to look too guilty.

 

Derek raised an eyebrow in complete and utter disbelief, and Isaac's face flushed. He looked down at the table, wishing he could think of something to say to get away from this topic completely.

 

"Isaac. Answers. Now," Derek growled, making Isaac jump slightly.

 

The waiter came over with their food, and Stiles and Scott must have an extra sense when it came to food because they were back in the restaurant a second later, sliding into the booth and blocking Isaac in.

 

"Everything all right?" Stiles asked between a mouthful of curly fries.

 

"Isaac here was just going to explain what's going on so we can **all** deal with it," Derek added, raising his eyebrow again.

 

Scott looked at Isaac with those puppy dog eyes of his and squeezed his hand in encouragement. Isaac was so screwed.

 

"Our boss made a deal with me: give him the fifty grand that was stolen and we're free to go. All of us," he added, looking between the three of them and the table.

 

"When did he make this deal?" Derek asked.

 

"When you three were in prison. He found me after you were taken in," Isaac said, looking at Derek. "It was either this or be put in jail along with you. I wouldn't be any help in there, so I had to agree. He promised that we'd all be let go if the money was returned," he added, sounding desperate when no one said anything.

 

Scott was still holding his hand, so Isaac thought that maybe he didn't fuck up as bad as he felt he had.

 

"Did he give you anything? Something to contact him on?" Derek asked.

 

"Just a business card," Isaac replied. "It's in the car," he added when Derek prompted him again with his eyebrows.

 

"Good, then they won't know that we know," Derek muttered.

 

"What?" Scott asked in confusion.

 

"The FBI do have some pretty high tech stuff, including a business card that acts as a transmitter. They could have a bug in there, or an RFID tag that they're tracking us on. Either way, you're going to dump the thing in the nearest body of water and we're heading in the opposite direction from where we were intending to go," Derek said.

 

"But... The beach! South America," Scott lamented.

 

"Now... The snow! Canada," Stiles said with very little sympathy, patting Scott on the back.

 

"It's going to be Toronto all over again, isn't it?" Scott asked with a heavy sigh.

 

Stiles lit up with a grin as he looked at Derek. "Definitely."

 

"Wait, so you're not angry with me then?" Isaac asked them, very surprised at how quickly everything had been resolved when he'd been tormenting himself with this guilt for all of this time.

 

"Oh, I didn't say that. But you've given us a way to check on what the FBI are doing, so I'll forgive you eventually," Derek said, stealing a curly fry from Stiles' plate.

 

"Honestly, I'm okay with it; you did what you thought had to be done. Scott's fine; he just wants you to have sex with him again," Stiles added helpfully.

 

Isaac turned and kissed Scott so hard that their lips were sure to bruise.

 

"Uh, I didn't mean _right now_ , guys. You'll be arrested for indecent exposure," Stiles added, kicking Scott's leg.

 

Scott pulled away to glare at Stiles, but he grinned at Isaac, nudging him with his elbow lightly. "Next time, tell us what's going on, all right? We're all in this together, okay?"

 

Isaac nodded quickly. "Okay."

 

Derek tried not to snort in amusement. "I'm sure Disney would be very proud of both of you. Now, can we make sure that Canada's really the best option?"

 

Isaac sat up a bit straighter and looked serious as they started discussing options, as if pure determination could resolve him of his own guilt. (Derek almost hoped it did for all of their sakes; Isaac being upset made Scott pouty which then made Stiles snippy, and he couldn't handle all three of them being so emotional when they were planning on driving across the damn country together.)

 

...

 

Canada was white with snow and fucking cold. That's all it should ever advertise, because when in Canada, Stiles figured that was all that mattered. It snowed and you froze your ass off if you weren't wearing a billion damn clothes with thermal lining. The fact that the car's heater had effectively died and refused to work less than an hour after they'd made it passed the Canadian border sure as fuck didn't help things. Still, Stiles supposed it was better than sitting in a cell in some godforsaken prison in the middle of nowhere. _But not by much_.

 

"Take my jacket, Stiles. You're going to freeze to death," Derek muttered, pulling his jacket off before he could argue and placing it around his shoulders firmly.

 

Stiles could hear his teeth chattering and just nodded his thanks briefly. If he had the ability to talk or move his mouth properly, he would have crowed in absolute delight at the sight of a motel sign further up the road.

 

Isaac pulled the car into the motel parking lot without waiting for anyone to tell him otherwise, and the four of them spent a good five minutes dislodging themselves from the cool car before running to the reception to buy whatever rooms they had - preferably with heaters.

 

Ten minutes later, Stiles was standing under a hot shower, not caring that the bathroom door was open or that Derek was still getting the bags out of the car with Isaac and Scott. He was finally starting to get warm when the motel room door closed, and Derek looked into the steamy bathroom with a slight frown.

 

"Better now?"

 

"Mmm, not bad. I'd be better if you were in here with me," he said, feeling a lot more like his usual self now that his blood was finally circulating properly.

 

"Hey, you two should probably leave now," Derek said, grinning when Scott rolled his eyes at him.

 

"You realise we haven't even been in Canada for two hours yet, right? You're going to start fucking already?"

 

"If I had any blood circulation, we would've started in the car," Stiles called out cheerfully.

 

"If his teeth weren't chattering like one of those wind-up mouth things, more like it," Derek muttered under his breath.

 

"Yeah, we're going," Scott said, pulling Isaac out of the room before they could be scarred for life. Again.

 

Derek barely waited for the door to close behind them before pulling his shirt off and heading into the bathroom to help warm Stiles up.

 

...

 

Lydia looked to Erica, her jaw clenched slightly as she tried to be calm about the information she was being presented with. It just wasn't acceptable.

 

"So, according to the FBI, they're meant to be somewhere in Mexico, yet we've received public sightings of them everywhere from Texas to Canada? You do know how large North America is, don't you?"

 

Erica glowered briefly. "Of course I do! If you'd let me finish, then you'd know that the most recent sightings of them are all leading up to Canada. They were last spotted crossing the border into Canada less than five days ago, though we only received the call today."

 

" _Five days?_ Honestly, don't people realise that these four are criminals?" Lydia groused.

 

Erica gave a slight shrug as if she couldn't believe it herself (or as if she couldn't blame the public; Lydia found Erica slightly hard to read at times). "Apparently, they're being viewed as Bonnie and Clyde-esque criminals. The public seem to love them, even more so when they found out that Lahey and Hale were from the FBI but became criminals for McCall and Stilinski."

 

"Yes, yes, all right, I admit that it's a regular love-fest for the four of them; but that doesn't mean they shouldn't be brought to justice for what they've done."

 

"Of course not," Erica agreed quickly.

 

Over the weeks, she had found that it was much easier to just agree with Lydia and cut her off rather than be forced to listen to her ranting. Seriously, the woman could rant and rave for **hours** (if she brought up the proper way to make tea one more time, Erica would be forced to reconsider that estimate and say Lydia could actually rant for three days straight; but then, she'd also have to think of a way to hide the body because seriously, it was just one time and for fuck's sakes, _it was_ _tea_ ).

 

Lydia raised an eyebrow at her as if to say she knew exactly what Erica was doing, but she just smiled at the woman, turned on her heel abruptly and left. Erica sighed heavily; she needed a **very** strong coffee if she - or Lydia - were going to survive the rest of the day.

 

"It's never just tea," Lydia muttered to herself, recognising the fed-up expression on Erica's face as the same one she'd sported for the past three days.

 

Honestly, it wasn't her fault that that **barbaric** barista attempted to put the hot water in _before_ the tea. In hindsight, she might agree that she _could_ have overreacted, but at the time, it had been a matter of life and death (for the barista, that is), and nothing had been more important than getting her tea. ( _She had been kind enough to not even mention the state of the macaroons, what more did people expect of her?_ )

 

Barely glancing at the report Erica had just presented, Lydia put it in her bag as she headed to a nearby coffee shop to get a cup of tea. She needed to calm down before she and Erica organised their flight from Washington to Canada.

 

...

 

"They know we're in Canada, but not where," Isaac said after getting off the phone with his boss, feeling somewhat relieved. "Those two international agents are flying to Ottawa Airport tomorrow afternoon. I've been told to get the location of the money from you, and then turn the three of you over for a reduced sentence on my side."

 

"Nice to know they're as imaginative with their offers as Hollywood portrays. What, no bouncy castle, all-expenses paid week in Vegas, and trip to a petting zoo?" Stiles asked, rolling his eyes.

 

"Do you really think they'd offer a petting zoo?" Scott asked, perking up as he looked at them.

 

"I don't think so, sorry Scott... There might be something here, though," Isaac offered, taking Stiles' open laptop off the bed to do a search.

 

"Do you think they'd have baby seals? Oh, tell me there's a way I can see a baby seal? I'm in Canada, it's like a crime to not see baby seals or something!"

 

"This is your second time to Canada, dude; you didn't see baby seals last time," Stiles pointed out.

 

"That's because I was being traumatised by the sound of you two fucking your brains out," Scott muttered, pouting.

 

"Uh, there's a tour, but it costs more money for one trip than we currently have between us; without you going into the fifty thousand, at least," Isaac added.

 

Stiles looked over Isaac's shoulder, his eyes widening. "Eight thousand dollars? Each?! _No fucking way, Scott_. We'll just go out to someone's backyard and look at the seals that are blorping around on the ice there. I'll buy you a seal plushie."

 

"Blorping?" Derek echoed, wondering if he even wanted to know where that word had come from.

 

"Yeah, y'know, seals are all squishy and blorpy. Therefore, they blorp."

 

"Don't ask, man," Scott muttered under his breath.

 

"Right. Let's get moving before those agents catch up to us. We need to get a new rental car," Derek said, changing the topic very quickly.

 

"One with a heater that works, or I'm not going _anywhere_ ," Stiles called out.

 

Derek rolled his eyes at that. He would physically drag Stiles out to the car and keep him on his lap if they had to leave anywhere in a hurry. There was no way he was leaving him behind, freezing cold weather or not. He'd made a promise to Sheriff Stilinski to look after Stiles, and - no matter if it ended up with them all going to jail or not - Derek Hale did not back out on his promises.

 

...

 


	3. Promises, grand and small

Derek drove for the first day, getting them as far away from Ottawa as possible. In fact, anywhere that had an airport was going to be avoided for a few days just to make sure they weren't being tricked by the FBI.

 

The next day was focused on deciding on a destination, Isaac taking over the driving duties as they headed further inland, Scott in the front seat while Stiles huddled in the backseat, sitting on Derek's lap to conserve warmth. (He still maintained that, even after he began to blatantly make out with Derek.)

 

Isaac continued to call the FBI to report that they were heading up to Ottawa, and Stiles hacked the FBI databases to ensure that Isaac was believed. Derek was surprisingly okay with the amount of illegal activities that he was witnessing (or in some cases, being an accomplice to; Stiles needed help figuring out his old FBI boss' password, and Derek had worked for the guy long enough that he wasn't surprised to discover that it was the same as his online banking password too), and so long as it would keep them safe, he didn't care what side of the law they had to work on.

 

Scott and Stiles helped with driving some days, but their faces were being shown on TV more often than Derek and Isaac's, so they were often forced to stay in the back seat while the other two drove somewhere. They traded their rental car in every few towns, usually after Stiles or Scott had conned their latest victims out of enough money to get them by. Derek and Isaac usually weren't around at those times, both Stiles and Scott agreeing that neither one should be an accomplice to _that_ sort of crime. If they did get caught, then Derek and Isaac could definitely say they had no hand in conning people.

 

Their plan to go inland seemed to work, and when they didn't show up at Ottawa at the pre-arranged time, Isaac called his boss, putting a hint of fear in his voice as he told him that the others were getting suspicious. He told his boss that he had no idea where they were going (true, he doubted any of them knew where they were going; it didn't matter so long as it was as far away from the agents following them as possible), and he had no idea where the money was (true - there were times he doubted if Scott even knew where it was), but he was working on getting Scott and Stiles to tell him (false; he actually didn't care - Isaac had friends in the FBI Finance Department and he knew exactly what the FBI could spend fifty thousand dollars on: none of it was good). Isaac was given an email address to report to instead, as his basis for concern was that there was no way he could call without the others wondering who he was calling and why. So long as he could access a computer, a quick email would suffice.

 

Thanks to the email address provided, Stiles was able to track the email and access their boss' files. He found out that Agent Martin and Agent Reyes were no longer in Ottawa like they'd hoped. Instead, they were now scouring reports of four men travelling together and were trying to find them in the vast Canadian land. Which meant Stiles, Scott, Derek, and Isaac either had to split up (and there was no way that Stiles was going to leave Scott alone, even if it was with Isaac, and if he didn't leave, then neither did Derek), or get as far away from civilisation as possible.

 

"No civilisation as in no people at all? Or no civilisation as in people but no wi-fi?" Scott asked over dinner that night.

 

Stiles gasped at his question, looking distraught at the very thought of going to a place without an Internet connection.

 

"People, preferably. The less people there are, the less chance the agents have of finding us."

 

"How's a population of under 600 sound?" Stiles asked, looking up from his phone.

 

"Lonely," Isaac muttered.

 

Derek rolled his eyes. "It sounds like just what we need to get away and lie low. A town like that's likely to be a close-knit community, which means you two need to not do your thing."

 

"We need to not do our thing?" Scott echoed, frowning.

 

"You know what I mean," Derek muttered.

 

"He means we have to behave, Scotty," Stiles said, grinning at his friend.

 

"Oh, right. I'm _always_ on my best behaviour," Scott said with wide and innocent eyes.

 

"Sure you are; why don't you tell me where you got the money for dinner?" Derek asked pointedly.

 

"A very lovely lady with far too many diamond rings. As well as a real fur coat. Anyone that owns an actual real fur coat deserves to lose a few hundred dollars," Scott muttered. "Besides, you have control of our generously donated money anyway. Stiles wouldn't trust me with it after I came out of the last store with a sombrero. It was totally necessary as a disguise!"

 

Derek just raised his eyebrows in disbelief; he'd seen the awful thing, and there was no way in hell that a bright pink sombrero could be used as a disguise in **any** country.

 

"I've got a place," Stiles interrupted them, holding out his phone. "Hall Beach, population's under five hundred and fifty. It's a beach, isn't that what you two wanted?" he asked, looking between Isaac and Scott with a smirk.

 

"Fuck you, Stiles. That's not funny," Scott muttered.

 

Derek coughed his laugh and grinned at Stiles, who just laughed when Isaac muttered something about buying another scarf.

 

...

 

"If I don't get something warm in the next five minutes, I may just have to stab someone with an icicle."

 

Erica glanced over at Lydia who was shivering despite wearing three of Erica's coats, a scarf, and fluffy ear muffs. She still had a red nose from the cold and looked ready to deliver on her threat. As Erica was the only one within stabbing distance, she was suddenly very concerned about getting Lydia warm again.

 

"Wearing a pair of pants wouldn't kill you, you know," she pointed out wryly, returning her attention to the road.

 

"I didn't expect to be in freezing cold _Canada_ , so I didn't bring pants. They wouldn't have matched my outfits," Lydia added in a low mutter, rubbing her hands together and putting them directly on the car's heater.

 

"There's a clothing store ahead, we'll pull in there and you can buy something that will keep you warm. I'll get you tea as well," Erica offered.

 

Lydia just nodded, warring between her sudden desire to shop and her lingering desire to get warm again. _Maybe she could drink her tea while she was shopping?_ she mused.

 

Erica pulled into the shopping centre's parking lot, and had barely shut off the engine when Lydia was out of the car and heading towards the shops. Erica swore, a long curse in French to make herself feel better, and hurried out after Lydia, locking the car with a press of a button over her shoulder. In her rush, she forgot to turn the car headlights off.

 

...

 

"I don't think I can drive anymore in this weather. We don't have the proper equipment on the car to drive in snow," Derek muttered, ducking his head to look out the window to the dark sky above them in worry.

 

"Find a motel then," Stiles said with a yawn, dropping his head back onto Isaac's shoulder.

 

Isaac and Scott were both asleep in the back seat with him, their arms curled up around the other's and Stiles would think they were just too cute if they weren't depriving him of much-needed body warmth. He shuffled around on his seat, trying to get comfortable and warm at the same time, keeping his eyes closed to try and will himself to sleep. _Maybe if he was asleep, he wouldn't feel so cold?_ Stiles reasoned to himself.

 

The car came to a stop a few minutes later, and Stiles opened one eye warily. He blinked and sat up with a frown on seeing their destination. They were at a petrol station (one with a small convenience store attached, and _helloooooo, Krispy Kreme_ ), the fluorescent lights shining brightly into the car and seemingly directly into Stiles' face.

 

"This isn't a motel, Derek," he said, Captain Obvious of the evening.

 

"We need petrol or we'll be pushing the car to the nearest motel," Derek replied, raising his eyebrow at Stiles as if daring him to question him again.

 

Stiles held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "Fine, fine. Just give me enough money to buy as many doughnuts as I can fit in a box at one time," he said, grinning broadly.

 

Derek rolled his eyes and passed him a twenty before getting out of the car to fill up. Stiles made a sound of pure happiness and scrambled out of the car, coming close to running into the petrol station while Derek shook his head after him.

 

"Sometimes I can't believe he's a criminal mastermind," he muttered under his breath.

 

His gaze softened on seeing Isaac and Scott curled up together in the back seat. They were entwined so tightly that they almost looked like one person, and Derek hadn't seen Isaac look this content in almost a year. He was loathe to wake either of them, even for the prospect of food.

 

"Uh, excuse me?" the woman's voice behind him almost made Derek jump in surprise, and he was lucky that he didn't let go of the petrol hose and douse them both.

 

"Just a second," he said gruffly, trying to calm his racing heart as he finished with the petrol.

 

As he moved to put the hose back on the stand, Derek saw the woman's reflection in the car window. His eyes widened when he recognised the woman's face. It took him a second to place her face from the picture he'd seen from her agency file all of those months ago, but even covered up, Lydia Martin was a very recognisable individual. His beanie concealed a lot of his head, and he'd let his beard grow out, so he hoped that he just looked like a scruffy stranger and nothing more.

 

Derek glanced over to the petrol station where Stiles was still choosing their doughnuts, and took a deep breath before turning to face Lydia. He knew what he looked like to others, gruff and unapproachable at the best of times, and Derek knew that if people thought of him that way, then the opposite just couldn't be possible to those people either. Basically, he was going to flirt with Lydia Martin to keep her distracted from the fact that he looked like one of America's most wanted criminals.

 

"Hi there, what can I do you for?" (Okay, the Southern accent was probably a bit thick, but she was British and probably had no idea about the small differences accents had in various areas of the US' southern states. At least, he hoped she had no idea about them.)

 

"I'm travelling with my friend, and our car battery's gone flat. I was hoping you might have a set of jumper cables and be able to help us out, please?" Lydia asked, wide eyes and a big, hopeful smile on her face.

 

"Well, I'll have a look in the trunk and see what I can find," Derek offered, smiling back at her, his facial features softening to the point where his family might have trouble recognising him.

 

Lydia let out a sigh of relief (see, she could be nice, thank you very much, Erica!) and followed Derek to the rear of the car. She didn't notice his quick glance to the store where Stiles was bundling up multiple boxes of doughnuts in a large bag.

 

"I'm really sorry, but there's no jumper cables in here. Have you tried inside? Places like this often have portable jump starters," Derek suggested, smiling again.

 

"That's what my friend's asking about. Well, she should be," Lydia muttered, looking to the store and frowning when she didn't see Erica. "I should go find her. Thanks for looking," she called over her shoulder, walking to the store briskly and bypassing a doughnut-laden person without more than a slight frown of disbelief.

 

Lydia found Erica in the back of the store looking at the portable jump starters on the bottom shelf - no wonder she hadn't been able to see her - and frowned, tapping her foot impatiently as Erica took her sweet time to stand with a plastic package in hand.

 

"This one should be able to last us until we get to the nearest motel," Erica said, squinting slightly to read the tiny writing on the package.

 

"Oh, just pick one and hurry up; I'm exhausted, and my headache's turning into a god-awful migraine," Lydia muttered. "I've been freezing my arse off out there for the last ten minutes, never mind that I spent half of it talking to a nice bearded man," she added, turning and frowning when she saw that the other car was gone already.

 

"Huh, I swear that display case was full of doughnuts when I came in," Erica muttered as she headed to the counter to pay for the jump starter.

 

Further down the road, Stiles was gripping the doughnut boxes tightly as Derek sped through the night to get to the next town, weather be damned.

 

...

 

Stiles made his way through the store, shopping list clutched tightly in his hand. He was sorely tempted to buy three packets of chocolate chip cookies on sale, but Derek had been firm and only given him enough money to buy what they needed. (But, seriously, even Derek had to like cookies, right?) Sighing, he continued past the cookies and chocolates, and grabbed a loaf of bread instead. (Whoever decided to put confectionery in with the bakery items deserved to be shot. Or get really horrible tooth decay.)

 

By the time he'd finished shopping and returned to the car, Derek was rolling his eyes at something Isaac and Scott were saying and looked ready to murder one or both of them. Stiles shoved the bags to the back of the car (conveniently putting the frozen foods on Scott's lap to make him yelp) and sat in the front seat, turning to look at Isaac and Scott.

 

"What're you two going on about now?" Stiles asked, grinning broadly.

 

"They want to go on a holiday. Somewhere warm, isolated, near water; it sounds an awful lot like a beach island."

 

"Aw, you two can go on a holiday when we're not being hunted down," Stiles promised, trying not to laugh at the tic in Derek's jaw.

 

"It'd be for all of us, not just me and Isaac!" Scott protested quickly.

 

"Those agents are traipsing all over Canada, why can't we head back into the US again, anyway?" Isaac asked with a frown.

 

"Because our faces are plastered on every border station in or out of Canada, and they're specifically looking for four guys travelling together, which is the same reason why we're not catching a plane out of the country," Derek said firmly. "So unless you're willing to split up, then we're stuck here until the heat dies down."

 

Scott looked out to the snow-covered landscape outside. "I'm pretty sure the heat's died and is freezing its ass off six-feet under," he muttered morosely.

 

Derek shot him a warning glare in the rear-view mirror and headed back to the motel, Stiles snickering in amusement beside him.

 

...

 

"Ready for this, Agent Hale?" Stiles asked, grinning at him.

 

Derek sighed, shaking his head briefly. "Stop calling me that, Stiles. You know I'm not..."

 

"Yeah, I know," he replied softly when Derek trailed off. "Still, it's been a good ride. Honestly, I thought we'd have to get into the fifty grand a lot sooner than this. You've been an excellent treasurer, Mr. Hale," Stiles said, pressing a hard kiss to his lips.

 

Derek followed him as he pulled away, pressing a few light chaste kisses to Stiles' lips. "It doesn't have to be like this, Stiles."

 

"We both know that's not true. Come on; one transaction is all you need, right?"

 

Swallowing hard, Derek nodded. "Make it something worthwhile."

 

Stiles grinned broadly. "Oh, I plan on it. Now, you wait outside or you'll ruin the surprise."

 

Derek sighed and stepped back, moving to wait outside of the shopping centre doors reluctantly. He watched Stiles tap something on his phone and produce a card from the hidden depths of his phone cover. Slipping his phone out of his front pocket, Derek called a number, watching as Stiles bought the largest seal plushie the toy store had to offer. (Scott would love it, and Derek immediately knew why Stiles had deemed it worthwhile, just to see that ridiculous pleased look on Scott's puppy face, which would probably make Isaac grin like the dope he was.)

 

"Deucalion? It's Derek Hale. Stilinski's finally used the money he stole from the FBI."

 

...

 

Derek and Isaac aren't exactly welcomed back to the FBI with open arms. There's about ten performance reviews, a panel of their employers and peers judging them, various psychiatric tests, and even a lie-detector test for them to pass. (Derek taught Isaac how to dig his nails into his palms to change the initial reading so they wouldn't be caught out.) In all, it almost takes a full two months before they're even allowed into the back offices of the FBI headquarters without someone shadowing them.

 

Sheriff Stilinski refused to talk to Derek, but allowed Isaac to relay any important messages that Stiles might have left for him before his and Scott's capture ( _eat your vegetables, don't complain; no curly fries either!_ ), but Derek can't blame him, really. He feels guilty every time he sees anything about Stiles or Scott in the newspaper, on the TV, various social media outlets (he had to delete his Twitter account after the amount of abuse he received; he's surprised at how much hate can fit in 140 characters). Stiles was the criminal mastermind, always three steps ahead of everyone else, and Derek has to trust that this plan - like all of his others - would work as well.

 

Isaac kept Scott's seal plushie and brought it to the trial, the damn thing taking up a whole seat on its own. Derek has to fight to keep a straight face any time he sees the seal sitting beside Isaac (they were unanimous in their agreement to name it Blorp; Derek doesn't usually name inanimate objects, but in this case he could make an exception). Scott and Stiles do their thing (yes, that thing that Derek told them not to do) and somehow melt the hearts of the entire courtroom - and more importantly, their jury - even when Lydia and Erica are brought in to testify against them. There's not much that the two international agents can say other than state the facts about the money they'd stolen.

 

Derek can see it the moment Lydia recognises him as the man from the gas station, her face paling as she looks at him with wide eyes, and he just grins at her, sorely tempted to wiggle his eyebrows like Stiles does when he's trying to be infuriating. Lydia clenches her fists and jaw until Erica offers her a cup of over-steeped tea to take her mind off it, even though she's not entirely sure why Lydia looks ready to murder Derek.

 

Thanks to their puppy dog eyes and Scott's ability to sweet talk (seriously, he'd be able to talk to a metal pole and the damn thing would probably bend for him), Stiles and Scott are put under house arrest, required to do community service to repay their debts to society, and have to work out numerous payment plans to repay the money they'd stolen too. Then, since the judge is trying to make an example out of them, Stiles and Scott are equipped with tracking anklets and wrist devices that make computers short out if they get too close. They have to wear the devices for the next three years, minimum. Stiles look sick at the thought of not being able to use his beloved computer and Internet connection for that long, but nothing they say or do will sway the judge's final decision (even Scott with his sweet talk and puppy eyes are useless, which is definitely saying something).

 

Derek thinks that Deucalion has something to do with their sentence being reduced to no more than house arrest, repayments, and restricted electronics access, and wonders what he's planning. He notices him eyeing off Stiles and Scott during the trial and Derek wouldn't be surprised if Deucalion offered them some sort of deal to work with the FBI and further reduce their sentences.

 

A couple of months after everything's died down, Derek puts in his resignation. It's accepted, but it's made clear that Derek will not be allowed back, and Deucalion coldly states that he washes his hands of Derek the minute he steps outside of the FBI headquarters. Derek opens his own Private Investigation business in Beacon Hills in a shitty office in the worst part of town. He doesn't expect to get any work from it, but that's okay because he needs a break for now. About two weeks later, Isaac joins him, grinning a little sheepishly when he admits that he quit too.

 

It took a long time before Derek was finally allowed into the Stilinski residence again. It took a lot of pleading in Stiles' case, and a 'I promise I'm not going to arrest your son again' from Derek, and then Scott needing to vouch for him to the Sheriff after that before he's allowed inside and reminded that he was licensed to use a gun. (Stiles had to vouch for Derek to Scott in the first place, Isaac agreeing with Stiles and giving Scott his own version of puppy eyes before he'd relented). Derek wasn't exactly surprised to see Stiles playing a computer game, the silver wristband doing sweet FA to the computer itself.

 

"I had Danny fix it for me. Oh, that reminds me: you need to take off your shirt," Stiles said, holding up a camera.

 

"What?"

 

"Apparently, I'm not the only one who's got fanboys," Stiles replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and snickering.

 

Derek rolled his eyes and pulls his shirt off, not looking at all impressed when Stiles snapped more than five pictures in quick succession.

 

"Hmm, Danny only gets one of these. The rest are for my personal collection," Stiles said with a broad smirk.

 

"Why would you need a collection of photographs when I'm right here?" Derek asked, pulling his shirt back on.

 

Stiles all but jumped on top of him while Derek's shirt covered his head, his hands stopping his shirt's descent, and his lips hot against his skin. "You're absolutely right," he murmured against his abs.

 

"You're going to drive me insane, you know that? Is everything working out the way you planned?" Derek asked, lifting his shirt to look down at Stiles properly.

 

"Of course. It's all set up to take a couple thousand at a time, and by the time anyone notices that something's wrong, that fifty grand will look like chump change," he said with a grin.

 

Stiles sat up then, straddling Derek's hips as he looked down at him with a slight frown.

 

"What?" Derek asked warily.

 

"Why'd you come here today anyway? Is something happening?"

 

"Why does something have to happen for me to see you?" Derek pointed out, smirking when Stiles didn't have an answer (there was a first). "It's a nice day, I thought I'd take you to the beach."

 

Stiles laughed, patting Derek's abs as he stood up. "All right, Agent Hale. But only if Scott and Isaac can come too."

 

"Who do you think I've got waiting out in the car?" he asked with a snort. "Isaac hasn't shut up about the beach all week."

 

Stiles peeked a look outside only to see Scott and Isaac making out by his Jeep. He laughed on seeing the wide-eyed expression on his neighbour's face, knowing that the old woman was probably scandalised at the sight. _Nosy old busybody_.

 

"Let me grab board shorts and a towel, and I'll be ready to go," he quipped, kissing Derek firmly before heading upstairs.

 

...

 

Derek doesn't ask how - doesn't want to know how - but by the time he and Isaac have set up their towels and food on the warm sand (Derek bought takeaway on the way, ignoring Stiles' moans about his curly fries deprivation and cruelty), Scott and Stiles have somehow managed to secure a boat for the afternoon. They eat the foil-wrapped burritos and curly fries quietly, watching as people speed by on jet skis, children laugh as they go into the spray and run back just as quickly. A group of teenagers are playing a game of volleyball in the distance, and a woman's running with her dog along the shoreline. It's a peaceful afternoon, and Derek begrudgingly admits that he's enjoyed coming to the beach.

 

"Come on, let's go now," Scott said excitedly, and if he was a dog, Derek was sure he'd be running between them all and jumping around like a puppy.

 

"Do either of you even know how to drive a boat?" Derek asked, raising his eyebrows when both Scott and Stiles shook their heads negatively.

 

"You do, though," Stiles said with a broad grin, holding out the keys to him. "Come on, Agent Hale, let's take her out for a spin."

 

"And if I want to just sit here?"

 

"You don't," Stiles called in a sing-song voice as he headed over to the small jetty with Scott.

 

Isaac ran after Scott, tackling him around the waist and kissing his bare shoulder as they headed to the boat. Derek sighed and grabbed their towels and rubbish before heading after them with the beach bag slung over his shoulder.

 

Derek took a few minutes to appreciate and learn the controls of the boat (she was called Roscoe, apparently) before turning the key in the ignition and heading out to sea. He waited until they were out so that the shore could barely be seen before turning off the engine and turning around. Stiles and Scott had already wrapped their tracking anklets with the tinfoil from the burritos, and Isaac was hunting through the bag for the hammer that Derek had packed.

 

"You sure you two are ready to do this?" Derek asked. "We'll be going on the run again, and this time, there's no way any of us are getting out of it, no matter what you bribe the judge with."

 

Surprisingly, it was Scott that answered, and it was in a much firmer voice than Derek had thought it would be. "We're ready, Derek. No going back; there's nothing back there for us anyway."

 

"Yeah, Dad and Melissa will be fine. We left them notes, and it's not like we weren't planning on leaving home for college anyway. Well, probably backpacking through Europe," Stiles amended, shrugging.

 

"You mean conning your way through Europe," Isaac corrected with a snort of laughter. "Oh, here it is," he crowed successfully, pulling out the hammer. "Now, stand still."

 

"Uh, are you sure about this, Stiles?" Scott asked nervously as his boyfriend lined the hammer up with his tracking anklet.

 

"Positive," Stiles said.

 

Derek didn't bother mentioning the crossed fingers he saw Stiles hiding behind his back, and Isaac smashed Scott's tracking anklet firmly. Stiles shoved Scott over the edge of the boat until his best friend landed in the ocean, spluttering as he surfaced.

 

"Quick, do mine," Stiles said urgently, sticking his foot out.

 

The container of his tracking anklet was cracked a moment later and Stiles threw himself off the edge of the boat, landing near Scott. He surfaced a moment later, grinning broadly as he pushed his hair back.

 

"Call Danny!" Stiles called, waving to Derek as he duck-dived back into the water.

 

"Go on, Lahey. I'll deal with this," Derek said, nodding for his partner to join their boyfriends in the water.

 

Isaac grinned brightly and did a perfect dive into the water, Scott calling out a score of ten and swimming over to hug him.

 

"Did it work?" Derek asked as soon as Danny picked up his phone.

 

Danny looked at his computer, a brief smile on his face when he saw that the two GPS signals were no longer working. "It worked. Have a good life, Derek. Take care of them."

 

"I will, I promise," Derek said, hanging up the call.

 

"How'd it go?" Stiles called when Derek came to the edge of the boat.

 

Derek grinned at the three of them, drew his arm back and let the phone fly, all of them cheering when it sank below the waves. He couldn't stop a laugh from escaping, and moved right to the edge of the boat to do a back flip off it. Stiles was beside him by the time he surfaced again, his mouth pressed firmly to his.

 

"Now, we've got our very own boat, a steady income provided by dear old Uncle Sam, so how about we go find that secluded island?" Stiles murmured against his lips.

 

Isaac climbed back on board the boat with Scott, both of them laughing as they discussed the possibility of heading to Rio de Janeiro.

 

Derek didn't care where they went: Stiles and Scott would no longer be tracked, the FBI no longer had a hold of them (and they never would until it was reported that Scott and Stiles were no longer being tracked - who knew how long it would take for the Sheriff to admit that? - or the FBI, CIA, and other governmental agencies realised that their money was slowly being siphoned out to an account in Switzerland via the Cayman Islands), and for now, they were free.

 

Derek raced Stiles back to the boat, kissing him fiercely when they were on deck again. Isaac rolled his eyes and started the ignition, heading for Tijuana. Scott and Stiles would be able to sweet talk their way into Mexico easily enough.

 

...

 

The postcard had a picture of a small town brilliantly lit up in the evening, the ocean seeming to creep up on the hill that surrounded the city. The words ' _Mazatlán: the Pacific pearl_ ' were written in bright red letters, but those weren't the ones he was interested in. Turning the card over, John smiled as he recognised his son's writing ( _chicken scratch, Dad, that's what it looks like_ ).

 

_Hey Dad,_

 

_I promised I'd write, didn't I? SM's so tanned you wouldn't even recognise him. The beach is amazing, and I'm making a decent living watching (supervising) DH fish with the locals._

 

_Thanks for everything you've done, Dad. I promise I'm doing well - you'd better be eating right! - and I'll send another postcard when I can._

 

_Love,_

_SS_

 

_P.S. Say hi to Scott's mum for him. (And Blorp!)_

 

John sighed softly and ripped the postcard up, making sure to turn it into a wet and soggy mess under the kitchen tap before throwing the wad of clogged paper into the bin. He knew it was a risk for Stiles to send him any form of correspondence, but John hadn't been able to stop him from promising to do exactly that so he'd know they were all right, no matter how much his son had planned.

 

Stiles was smart - even smarter than John would give him credit for - and he'd set his mind to this existence. It wouldn't have been John's first (or hundredth) choice for his son, but to know that he was happy and doing something that he wanted to do was more than most parents had for their children. For now, it would have to be enough.

 

Straightening his shirt briefly, John left the house to tell Melissa the news about her son. He'd made a promise to look after her when Scott left, and he was determined to keep it.

 

...

 

Derek slipped into the bed and wound his arm around Stiles' body, his face pressed against his neck warmly.

 

"Der, you still smell like the ocean," Stiles murmured sleepily.

 

"You smell like sleep," Derek countered with a grin.

 

"Mmm, sleep's good," he yawned.

 

"Yeah, it's good," he agreed softly, pressing a kiss to Stiles' shoulder before closing his eyes to let sleep take him.

 

Stiles smiled gently, snuggling back against Derek as he fell asleep. For the first time in some time, Stiles was content and happy (he was sure it was the whole 'no longer being chased by the FBI' thing that helped with this, though he wasn't 100% certain). He had fulfilled his own promise to take Isaac and Scott on a beach holiday, and it was fun to watch them go about everything like it was a big adventure. Stiles knew that they'd have to move on sooner or later, and just hoped that they'd like the next place just as much. He and Derek had already promised that it wouldn't be anywhere cold. Linking his fingers with Derek's, Stiles settled down to go to sleep again.

 

...

 

Isaac brushed the hair back from Scott's face gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead before moving to kiss his lips.

 

"Love you, Isaac," Scott whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes.

 

"Love you, Scott."

 

Scott smiled and wrapped his arms around Isaac's body warmly, snuggling his face into the crook of his shoulder.

 

"What do you think we'll do tomorrow?" Scott asked, yawning softly against Isaac's skin.

 

"Don't know, but I'm sure it'll be amazing," Isaac promised, kissing him once more before closing his eyes to sleep.

 

"Yeah, it'll be 'mazing," Scott agreed, sleep claiming him before he could manage to finish his sentence.

 

It wasn't a grand promise like some he'd heard, but it was the little things that truly mattered, and it was a promise he was willing to keep no matter what happened.

 

...

The end.

Thanks for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few liberties (along with a dash of creative license) with the way FBI and international agencies work, but hopefully it wasn't too unbelievable!


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